


Time is Not Real

by Cers



Series: Eldritch Invocations [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Madness, Poetry, Rambling and Musings, Unpolished Publishing Yeehaw, Writer Equivalent of a sketch, no edits, we publish raw like madmen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cers/pseuds/Cers
Summary: Pure musings after a feral conversation on the ETFC (special shout out to Vex, Kash, Meg, and Mbear for fuelling this holy shit guys).Essek casts Reality Break to save the Mighty Nein, but the consequences rebound and now his mind unravels.
Series: Eldritch Invocations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920706
Comments: 16
Kudos: 31





	Time is Not Real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoboDeer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboDeer/gifts).



It was never meant  
To go this far.   
To harm you all,  
And cause this scar. 

All I wanted  
Was to shield,  
And protect.

Now everything I’ve worked for-  
Doomed and wrecked. 

The looks on your faces,  
I see them all.   
The horror, the fear.   
The grief, that _gall._

As I lay there on the floor,  
Splintering, malfunctioning,  
One failed magical flaw.

You watched on with sorrow,  
And heartbreak.   
But alive. 

Because I took that chance.   
I made sure you'd survive. 

It’ll be worth it,   
In the end.   
You all will see.   
This sacrifice,   
This penance.   
It was all meant to be. 

(For me.)

I’ll do what I can,  
Whilst my mind is intact.   
All I beg of you now,   
Is to keep me on track. 

My job as spy  
doubles down overnight.  
And now I’m an agent,   
For an abstract appetite. 

Information I will gather,  
And knowledge you will know.   
For these are the seeds,   
That I choose to sow. 

Together, He’ll be defeated-   
_That_ you will see.   
Then there’ll be one last thing  
To deal with-

And that’ll be me. 

I can feel it there clawing.   
Scratching.   
Growing. 

  
Beneath my skin,   
My eyes.  
My mind. 

I- I don’t think I’ll survive  
This... otherworldly curse.  
That somehow living  
Is now  
The alternative worse. 

The Madness, she comes.   
The Hunger, it claims.   
I always was going to go down  
In treachery, and flames. 

Reality ruptures.   
Beneath your mortal parts.   
I see it all now-   
The past, the future.   
Your easily quashed hearts. 

And _oh_ it would be  
So _easy_ to do.  
Reach forth and grab,  
Right inside of you. 

Your atoms are spread,  
Your molecules a-quake.  
Are you really so made up  
To fracture, and flake?

With such ease,   
So little effort.   
How I would love to see  
You unwind.  
For ever. 

And ever. 

Your matter maligned.

For _time_ is not _real_.  
My life was a joke!   
Years of study,  
I now readily revoke.

For time is not _real_.  
Nor is space.   
Or me.   
Or you.   
Or we. 

The Madness is though.   
And oh how she _croons_.  
With her wicked tongue,  
And taunting tunes. 

She sings in my head,  
As my form cracks,   
and splinters.  
And my soul is naught now,  
But lightless, cold winters. 

I had a soul once.   
Did you know that?  
It is like warmth-

Was.

 _Was_ like warmth. 

Now it is sapped,   
Like the minds crying loud.   
And oh how they wail  
From their sea and astral cloud.

Their chorus is a scream,   
Their verses are tormented.  
And lie here I will,  
Dark, alone, and fragmented.

For time is not **_real_**.   
You are not really here.   
This already never happened.   
Isn’t that an event so queer?

The blood in my veins,  
It is venom no longer.  
Now my heart beats,  
With something much stronger. 

With thoughts of Beyond,  
Behind, and Unknown.   
‘Insanity’ is a word,  
I might once at it have thrown. 

But now time is _not real._   
Reality has Fractured.  
I am alone in my Madness,  
Unmade. Unborn.   
  
Unmanufactured. 

It is clean and finally over.   
My silence is divine,   
I did it all for them.  
Those Mightiest of Nein. 

Who, with my garbled cries,  
Translated my screams,  
Muted my sighs,   
Done apart at the seams. 

Took my galactic gleanings,  
Of esoteric meanings,  
And devised a way  
To counter and delay.

While I bled, and died.   
Over and over again.  
In a single moment,  
For eternity and then.

But they didn’t see  
For Time is not REAL.  
And my spell has still  
Yet  
To leave my hands  
In its arcing,  
protective zeal. 

It has already happened,   
But I did not know.   
For the future is blind.  
And now I fall low. 

It was all worth it in the end,  
The blood, and the tears.   
The broken, shattered psyche.   
Who I was destined to be.

My karma is now in arrears.

It was all worth it in the end.  
For the end isn’t over.   
They haven’t even begun!  
For I have yet to feel,  
The first threads of Madness,  
Since Time is Not Real.   
  
In this great universal vastness...

 _Soon_ they will know,  
When I writhe on the ground,  
Which way is right,   
And which will win them sound. 

My silence is divine.  
It is damning, and quiet.  
It creates a vacuum,   
Feasting a full diet.   
It can sap and sap,   
And eat and eat.

And we can feast, my love,   
Oh _yes_ we will eat. 

Shapes are shifting,  
Nothing stands still.   
Not Time. Not Space.  
Nor my power and will. 

I think-

I think I’m lost. 

I remember neither way. 

What is home?

I cannot say. 

It’s- _there_. 

Not _here_. 

In this prison unending. 

With the twisting manacles 

Of Madness

Suspending. 

I think I am lost. 

Or

  
  


I will be

  
  


Soon. 

  
  


**But Time is Not Real.**

So says 

Tharizdun. 


End file.
